


They fall alone and stay together

by leadingrebel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 17:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3659622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leadingrebel/pseuds/leadingrebel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People fall.</p><p>People die.</p><p>Wars kill innocent people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They fall alone and stay together

**Author's Note:**

> For the Crackship Drabble Challenge on Tumblr~ I'm sorry. (Or not.)

His eyes fixed on the counter, as if he was waiting for something to materialize from nowhere ―a cup of hot chocolate under whipped cream with cinnamon sprinkles―, from time to time a weak motion of his hook ―as if he needed to convince himself that it was there, with him, not hanging from any light fixture.

Fingers wrapping painfully over the edge whenever the door chime announced someone coming in his actual personal pity party place, because he knew it  _wasn’t_   _him_.

Teeth grinding whenever a happy laugh reached his ears, because it was not  _hers_.

Clenched jaw, tendons showing on his neck, whenever he heard Regina’s voice, because _Tink_ was _not_ with her.

_People fall._

_People die._

_Wars kill innocent people._

His mind approaching the dark limit, the pain starting to push into his chest, the sharp edge just caressing the open wound.

(It was bleeding again.)

(Or perhaps it never stopped.)

(He didn’t really care anymore.)

Red glitters passed through his eyelashes. Ruby.

He didn’t look at her. He  _couldn’t_.

_How could you? You don’t deserve it._

When she tried and reached for his hand and he felt the touch of her skin, he let his fell and hid it under his coat. I was shaking.

Ruby’s voice sounded distant as her sigh opened her mouth.

“She forgot it here yesterday night”

(He knew “yesterday night” was a mere excuse for a poorly attempt to hide “today at five in the morning, because I pity her and I let her stay until the sun rises again and I have to make her leave”.)

He glanced up, almost unconsciously, bearing the guilt’s weight pushing upon his shoulders as he watched the brown in her eyes shine with something looking like  _hope_.

Of course she knew about them. Of course she knew who her best friend was holding onto. Of course she saw glances and hands reaching for each other’s and that one little smile that had first appeared when they had been around each other.

(Of course she did not know of kisses and cries and skin slapping against skin, of whispered words and moaned names.)

He felt his lips parted and he knew he had said something when hers ―as red as  _their_ blood― slightly curled into a weak, sad smile and her shoulders sank, as if he had reminded her something he shouldn’t have to.

The smell of alcohol filled his senses at soon as he listened to Ruby’s steps facing away.

Rum.

(Perhaps it was Snow’s jacket. Perhaps it was him.)

Ruby came back sliding something across the bar counter. He knew instantly what he had said to her when his lips had parted.

_Hot chocolate with cinnamon._

·

(Ruby didn’t say anything when she watched him leave, intact drink in hand. He could take as many cups as he wanted, not pay as many times as he wished, if only that achieved to keep him and Snow  _surviving_.)

·

The air of the apartment was thick ―so heavy Killian wasn’t able to breath for a second―, the anguish stacked to the walls, ripping the colour from them; guilt fell from the roof like a dead weight; pain crossed the room from end to end, breaking through the middle of his chest; nightmare’s screams that filled the nights still echoing through the space, striking his ears like arrows; tears could be smell in the atmosphere, falling along with the rain drops beyond the windows.

(He had learnt to listen to Snow’s silence.)

Her petite body shrunk in the living room, curled up against the wall. Gaze lost ―mind trapped in the dark spot that made them stop living for as long as it decided―, breathing almost not heard.

He sat down at her side, shoulders touching.

(He thought he would offer her his flask if she was  _Emma_.)

(But she was  _not_. And he would never offer his flask to anyone again. Because Emma would never be with him again.)

He took her cold hands in his and wrapped them around the cup, hoping the warm reached her body.

Killian didn’t even know if he wanted to know her reaction, but for the first time in a very long time he felt something different that made him bit his lip.

Snow could feel the warmth ―she would’ve been thankful if she cared a little bit more― as well as Killian’s tension.

The cinnamon smell shoved her to an abyss of memories.  _Happy_  memories. Laughs, kisses, hugs. (“ _I love you_ ”, “ _mom_ ”, “ _dad_ ”.) Eyes shining in happiness and smiles showing all teeth.

(The feeling of bliss filling her for a moment.)

Her cheek against his chest, his heartbeat against her ear. A hand on her hair, a thumb over her tears.

Her lips against his neck ―seeming to pick her voice’s pieces―, letting out a broken:

“Thank you.”

·

When he felt her calm breathing ―her head rising lightly with every breath, her body’s shaking missing―, Killian took her in his arms to the coach and left.

(Snow couldn’t stand waking up in an empty bed anymore, leaving the doubt of whether it could had been all a bad dream and David had just got up early to make breakfast that day.)

(She could only wake up with Killian leaving his side of the bed before sun rose.)

His coat stayed with her.

·

The night’s cold filled the apartment when he came back.

(He thought he would’ve felt cold without his coat if he cared a little bit more.)

An irregular piece of paper lay under the empty cup of Granny’s. Handwriting of rounded, smooth letters on it.

_Stay tonight. Please._

Snow’s voice ―frail, trembling, broken in a thousand splinters that sank in his heart― seemed to recreate itself in his mind as it leaded him to her bedroom.

A little bulge under sheets and blankets, her breath the only thing that could be heard, her petite form crouched at the end of the bed, his coat wrapped around her and held tightly with her thin fingers.

The moment his weight touched the bed ―vest, shirt and boots off―, Snow turned in her sleep and moved towards him, one of her arms coming at his waist.

Her eyes closed and her eyelids fluttering, Killian thought she was dreaming of  _him_.

“I’m not David,” he whispered, his hand cupped her cheek, as if that way she could hear him. He tried to take her arm off him and let her dream of a far truer version of David than him.

Her grip on him tightened and her face came closer to him until it was against his bared chest.

Her nose buried in the soft hair and her lips caressed his skin.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [Tumblr](http://leadingrebel.tumblr.com/post/83936034781)


End file.
